


Sweater Weather

by look_up_at_the_stars (ravenditefairylights)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Badass Betty Cooper, Chuck Clayton Being an Asshole, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Forbidden Love, High School Drama, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Homophobic Language, References to Drugs, Reggie Mantle Not Being an Asshole, Secret Relationship, Supportive Archie Andrews, Tragic Backstory Sharing, because Joaquin deserved a better storyline than what he got, established bughead, or should i say relationships, soon to be Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, very minor implied/mentioned sexual content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 10:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenditefairylights/pseuds/look_up_at_the_stars
Summary: He knew he shouldn't have called. A gang member and the sheriff's son just weren't the sort of people who should hang out together, much less date, or whatever the hell it was that he and Kevin were doing now.He knew he shouldn’t have called.And yet he was here, worrying the leather edges of his jacket as he sat in the little coffee shop in Greendale—Cerberus’, or something—that seemed to be the equivalent of Pop’s for the small town; minus the sides’ rivalry, Joaquin was willing to bet. He couldn’t get Kevin out of his mind the whole week and a half it took him to call him; fighting against his desire to see him again, and the knowledge that they really shouldn’t be doing this





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> original characters: Charlotte DeSantos (aka Carla) and Lu Fogarty  
> Fangs' real name in the archie comics is Edward, so i'm using it here as his real name as well. Kevin's little sisters have also been taken from the comics.
> 
> also translations: (i had help, i don't know spanish (yet))  
> ¿Y qué? = so what?, dios = god, Desde luego es un chico = of course it's a boy, para un juguetito de nuevo = for a boy-toy again?, niño = kid, vete = get lost

Swinging by Jughead Jones’ trailer on their way to school was proving to be a daily occurrence, ever since he’d come to live on the Sunnyside Trailer Park permanently now that his father was in jail. Even though it was only a few—six—weeks now, the routine was oddly comforting. Joaquin kept in mind that it probably wouldn’t be that much longer; theft from a supermarket of all places wouldn’t warrant FP Jones II more than two or three months in jail, considering his record.

Today, much to everyone’s surprise, Toni no-one-should-ever-be-up-before-noon Topaz had woken up at the crack of dawn and banged on all their doors in turns, forcing them to do the same. She’d banged on Joaquin’s trailer first, not that she really had to; Carla was already up, fresh and dressed and making coffee, when Joaquin opened the trailer door in his sweatpants and white undershirt, with the toothbrush still in his mouth. Ricky was passed out somewhere inside, but Joaquin fully intended to let his sister do the hard work of waking him up.

Toni had stared him down until her intent was clear, nodded, and moved to the trailer right next, banging with fervor until a confused-looking and still in the haze of the morning Fangs opened up.

“Where’s the fire?” his voice was still thick with sleep, and Toni looked unimpressed.

“Get dressed,” was all she said. “We’re going to wake up Sweet Pea next.”

Fangs turned to him, wearing an expression that couldn’t have captured the sentiment ‘what the hell is going on’ better. Joaquin refrained from laughing, mindful to the toothpaste in his mouth. “UP AND AT ‘EM, EDDIE!” he hollered instead, waving at Lu who peaked her head from the door at her brother’s side. Fangs glared and retreated back into his trailer, but ten minutes later—with Ricky successfully awake and off to school—the four of them headed to Sweet Pea’s trailer. Waking him up wasn’t as hard as one would expect, seeing as they barely had to knock before Sweet Pea swung the door open, fully clothed and fully awake.

“’Morning,” His eyes took them all in, standing on his front door. “Topaz,” he zeroed on the pink-haired girl, “good to see you up before noon willingly. Where’s the fire?”

Joaquin was fairly sure the fire was an internal turmoil on Toni’s side, but he didn’t volunteer any questions. She’d talk if she wanted; either to all of them, or only to Carla if it was a girl thing. Jughead’s trailer was next in line, and Joaquin was fully prepared for the scowl on the Serpent Prince’s face, the tangled black curls and wrinkled clothes that would serve as a confirmation that he had just rolled out of bed, and wasn’t all that happy about it.

Joaquin was _not_ prepared for the sight of who _actually_ opened the Jones’ trailer door that morning.

It was a girl, with messy blonde curls cascading down her shoulders as if she had just woken up, but her eyes were bright green and fully awake. She was dressed only in one of what Joaquin immediately recognized as one of Jughead’s blue plaid shirts; sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the first three buttons open, and he just knew that Toni, Carla and Sweet Pea were subtly trying not to look at that and the long legs under the shirt that reached the middle of her tights.

“You must be Sweet Pea,” she told the tall boy in question, eyeing his height and the snake tattoo at his neck. “And you must be Toni,” she continued, taking in the pink-haired girl that was two heads shorter than Sweet Pea. “You’re Secrets?” her gaze turned to his sister, who nodded in confirmation, a smirk already forming on her lips. “And which one of you is Fangs?” the blonde continued. Fangs raised his hand slowly.

“Joaquin DeSantos,” he offered when it became obvious he was the only one whose name she didn’t know. Her eyes lit up.

“Yes! I remembered it was something hard to pronounce!” she smiled, and it was like a light bulb had flashed in front of her face. “Come in! Jughead is still sleeping, but I’m making pancakes.”

She stood aside to let them pass, and then quickly disappeared inside the kitchen. He saw Fangs meet Sweet Pea’s eyes over Toni’s head, mirroring the same bewilderment. There was a sports bag as well as a school bag discarded in the small living room, that if Joaquin had to take a guess—based on their pastel blue color and the fact that Jughead and sports couldn’t be further apart—he would say they didn’t belong to Jughead at all. There was also a cheerleading shirt thrown hastily on the couch that _definitely_ didn’t belong to Jughead.

“Do you want something specific on your pancakes? I re-stocked Jughead’s fridge and shelves a few days ago, so there’s jam and nutella and some honey,” the blonde stuck her head from the kitchen to look at them, and caught him looking at the white and yellow cheerleading shirt. “Ah, so that’s where he threw it,” she said, far more casually than Joaquin would have expected. “Guess it didn’t make it to the bedroom after all.”

Sweet Pea choked, and despite the bewilderment Joaquin himself was feeling—Jughead Jones with a girl? Jughead Jones _sleeping with_ a girl?—he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up at his friend’s expression.

“Not to be rude,” Fangs started cautiously, “but who exactly are you?”

“Who…oh my gosh!” For the first time the blonde looked flustered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude—oh god—I’m Betty. Betty Cooper,” she put on a smile and extended a hand in greeting, but only Carla made the effort to walk over and shake it.

“Charlotte DeSantos,” she smiled back, “but call me Secrets. The idiot with the semi-long hair is my brother. It’s nice to meet you, even if it’s somewhat surprising.”

“Understatement of the year,” Fangs muttered, but then seemed to remember himself and addressed Betty again. “Fangs Fogarty. That’s Toni Topaz and the tall idiot is Sweet Pea.”

Betty smiled brightly at all of them. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she said excitedly, gesturing for them to come to the kitchen. It wasn’t big enough to host all of them, so while Carla hogged one of the chairs and Sweet Pea did the same with another one, Joaquin and Fangs hang back near the door, but Toni didn’t hesitate to hop on an empty space on the counter with a full plate in her hands. “Juggie talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” Toni’s voice betrayed no emotion, even as she raised an eyebrow. “Well, not to sound offensive or rude, but _Juggie_ has never mentioned you.”

Betty only laughed. “Sounds about right,” she shook her head, but nothing could hide the fond smile on her lips. “Speaking of Jughead, I should go wake him up. You make yourselves comfortable—don’t be shy to dig in the pancakes, I’ve made more than enough. Jughead eats ridiculously large portions.”

“You tell me about it,” Sweet Pea muttered, who was usually at the receiving end of Jughead’s ‘are you going to finish that?’ questions.

Betty sent him a sympathetic smile, and then turned inside the trailer where Jughead’s room was. “JUG!” she called loudly as she retreated. “YOUR FRIENDS ARE HERE! Dear god, I sound like my mother,” Joaquin could _hear_ the wince in her voice.

“I’m just going to ahead and say what we’re all thinking,” Fangs broke the silence.

“Damn, she’s hot?” Carla said, finding a plate and piling a few pancakes in it. “Like heart-eyes, I-think-I-forgot-to-breathe-for-a-second hot?”

“I was going to say ‘what the actual fuck’, but that works just as well,” Fangs allowed.

“She’s _is_ hot,” Sweet Pea agreed. “Hot enough, in fact, that I might just be able to almost forgive Jughead for not telling us she existed. Almost.”

“She’s _hot_ ,” Toni repeated. “That’s one bonus reason to be pissed at Jughead.”

“You are impossible,” Joaquin rolled his eyes. “Jughead has a Northside girlfriend, so what?”

“¿Y qué?” his sister repeated in Spanish, incredulous, as she finished decorating her pancakes with nutella. “ _¿Y qué?_ Did you _see_ her?”

“Not into girls,” Joaquin shrugged nonchalantly.

“You don’t need to be into girls to have eyes,” Toni argued. Carla abandoned her chair and walked over to the door where Joaquin and Fangs were standing, offering them the pancakes she wasn’t currently eating.

“Says the expert,” Joaquin rolled his eyes, as he accepted a pancake. “Every time you see a girl that’s remotely pretty, you lose your ability to speak.”

“Says the guy who spends the majority of his day being distracted by all the cute guys that exist in his general vicinity.”

“Are you seriously fighting at seven thirty in the morning?” It was Jughead’s groggy voice that snapped them out of it, as he walked and settled down on the chair Carla had been previously occupying, and wasted no time hogging the pancakes into a pancake tower at his own plate. Betty appeared behind him, her blonde hair tied up tightly in a ponytail, fully clothed in pastel jeans and a cardigan pink sweater.

“Ah, so he speaks!” Carla cried triumphantly. “Tell us, _Juggie_ , how did you sleep last night? Assuming you did get some sleep last night, that is,” she punctuated the nickname with a shit-eating smirk on her face. Jughead only groaned in response, snatching the last pancake Sweet Pea had been aiming for.

“Dude!” Sweet Pea complained. “You already piled up, like, five of those!”

“My girl, my pancakes, Pea,” Jughead smirked. “You go get your own.”

“Your girl, huh?” Toni was smirking as well. “Is that why you’re always ditching us in the afternoons? Hot date with a hot northsider?”

Betty’s cheeks flared red, but Toni only winked at her in response. Jughead scowled. “Seriously, Topaz?”

“Well, I, for one, am willing to forgive you,” Carla declared dramatically “but only if I get to have all the details.”

“Does she know about the, um…?” Fangs gestured vaguely at the space around them, not making a leak of sense. Jughead understood the rest of the unsaid sentence anyway.

“My Serpents’ initiation on Friday?” he asked, and Fangs confirmed it with a nod. “Yeah, she does.”

“ _She_ is right here,” Betty placed her hands on her hips and sent Jughead a pointed hard look. He returned an apology with only his eyes.

 _‘Whipped’_ Sweet Pea mouthed, earning him a swift kick in the leg from Jughead under the table.

“So, it’s serious,” Carla deducted. “Interesting. I hope you know I’ll be pressuring you for details for the rest of eternity, _amigo_.”

Jughead sighed heavily. “On a second note,” Betty decided, “ _she_ is not going to be here for long. Don’t bother, I already asked Kevin to pick me up,” she continued when Jughead opened his mouth. “I should be early at school anyway, I have an article to finish.” She went and picked her bags from the living room and easily hoisted them up her shoulders, but paused as she turned to them again. “Actually…Veronica ditched us to go on a date with Archie, so Kevin and I are going to the Drive-In by ourselves tonight. Rebel Without A Cause is playing. Would you guys like to come?”

“Hell, yeah,” Sweet Pea agreed before anyone else could.

“I’m in,” Carla shrugged, and Joaquin settled for pointing at her with his thumb, in a what-she-said manner. Fangs nodded his agreement around a mouthful of food.

“I mean, if Blondie is going out of her way to invite us…” Toni trailed off, but her decision was clear; it was a yes, loud and clear, coming from her.

“You’re going to regret this, but yes, we’ll come,” Jughead agreed as well. “Are you sure you—”

“I’ll be fine, Romeo,” Betty rolled her eyes, walking over to place a brief kiss on his lips. “Sledgehammer, remember?” Fangs turned to Joaquin, mouthing 'sledgehammer?' in an obvious question, but Joaquin just shrugged, just as puzzled. Jughead nodded reluctantly, and with one last kiss on his cheek, Betty rushed out the door. “It was so nice meeting all of you!” she called with a smile, before disappearing behind the door.

The silence, for a moment, was deafening.

“Dude,” Sweet Pea started, but Jughead cut him off.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“She’s hot,” Sweet Pea finished his sentence anyway. Jughead sighed, and reached for the coffee.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

It was Carla who answered first. “Nope,” she smirked, prolonging the ‘p’ sound. Jughead sighed again.

* * *

The Twilight Drive-In experience wasn’t nearly as fun as Joaquin was hoping it’d be.

Jughead had disappeared at one of the cars—Betty’s, of course—as soon as they arrived, and the rest of them were left to fend for themselves. For Sweet Pea that meant he spent the whole time trying to get a rise out of Toni, who didn’t miss an opportunity to hit him with a different object each time. Carla was wrapped up with Ricky next to him, and they looked so happy Joaquin couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with the way his little brother kept making snide comments. Fangs, on his other side, had become Lu’s personal human pillow as the girl with the braids slept soundlessly, too afraid to move in case he woke her up.

Aside from the guy who turned around to yell at them to shut up, nothing interesting had happened.

Joaquin was out of friends to talk to, and he’d seen Rebel Without A Cause so many times he couldn’t even force himself to pay attention. Huffing a sight, he turned to his siblings. “You guys want another round of popcorn?”

Ricky’s eyes lit up. “Can I have a coke too?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Joaquin smiled, ruffling his hair and ignoring the pointed look Carla gave him—yes, he was aware they barely had enough money to go by, much less indulge in three rounds of popcorn and an extra coke, but it was Saturday night, dammit—and he got up and made him way to the stand with the empty box of popcorn Ricky gave him.

Later, he might be ashamed that the first thing he noticed was the guy’s ass, but he didn’t regret it. He was tall, that much was clear, with dark hair and a light brown jacket. He placed an empty popcorn box on the counter and Joaquin almost laughed at how polite the guy was with his ‘can I’ and ‘please’. His eyes lingered on something—the screen, maybe—and he turned back to the stand, but not before Joaquin caught sight of his sharp features and strong jaw. He recognised him as the guy who had turned to shush them; Joaquin admired the nerve.

“And…some gummy worms and a cola?” he sounded frustrated. He turned back to where he had been looking before, and added, “And a hot dog? Who am I trying to impress here?” the last part was muttered, but Joaquin heard it anyway, and decided it was the perfect time to step up.

“I’d say me, but you haven’t even turned around to see me yet,” he said, smirking when the other boy startled and turned to him. His eyes were wide, a shade of dark green, and Joaquin’s smirk widened. His eyes raked down the guy’s figure shamelessly, taking in the tightness with which the high-collar plaid shirt sat on him. "Turning around to yell us to shut up doesn't count, but I'll admit it was sort of hot."

The boy working on the stand came back before any more could be said. “Actually, we’re out of dogs,” he sounded more bored than anything else.

“Figures,” the boy nodded with pursed lips, eyes a little wide.

“I’ll get a refill,” Joaquin placed his own box on the counter without taking his eyes off the other boy. “Do you mind if I get those?” he grabbed the gummy worms and the cola the boy had already paid for without waiting for an answer. The other guy—he was hot, Joaquin would give him that—opened his mouth to say something, eyes still wide, but his refill came before the response did.

“What’s taking you so long?” Ricky complained, coming up behind him and tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Carla’s out of popcorn to throw at Sweet Pea.”

“I’m making friends,” he replied vaguely, and Ricky’s eyes moved to the other boy for the first time.

“ _Desde luego es un chico_ ,” Ricky rolled his eyes. “Should I tell Carla you’re ditching us _para un juguetito de nuevo_?”

“Language, Ricardo,” Joaquin scolded without any real heat. “And don’t tell Carla anything, _niño_. Here,” he handed him the refilled popcorn, as well as the gummy worms and the cola. “Now _vete_.”

Ricky grinned at the food he had been given, and dashed away without a second glance.

“You just stole my food,” the boy finally spoke up, sounding like he could barely believe any of this was happening.

“Did I?” Joaquin smirked. “Well, then, allow me to make it up to you,” he guessed the boy expected him to buy something else, but Joaquin boldly wrapped his hand around his wrist and tugged him away, towards one of the alleyways he knew would be empty. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was too surprised to do anything, but the other boy didn’t protest as he was dragged behind him.

He came to a halt in front of a wire fence, and turned to the brunet, pleasantly surprised to find green eyes taking in his form. The boy blushed slightly when Joaquin caught him looking, but he smirked, making sure to convey he didn’t mind the slight objectification.

“So…” the boy started. “Is this the part where you make it up to me?” he, too, was smirking now, and Joaquin found the motion particularly endearing.

“It is,” he confirmed, taking a step closer until the distance between them was something less than a foot.

“And how, pray tell, are you planning to do that?”

Joaquin licked his lips, and the boy’s dark eyes followed the movement. That was all the encouragement he needed before he firmly pushed him against the wire fence and connected their lips. The boy enthusiastically returned the gesture, and Joaquin almost groaned when he licked his tongue, asking for permission. He wasn’t about to say no, and he opened his mouth wider, letting his tongue wander in the boy’s mouth. Before long, however, the boy—he seriously needed to get a name—pulled back reluctantly.

“I need to go,” he blurted out, breathless.

“So soon?” Joaquin was smirking, attempting to hide the genuine disappointment. _Dios_ , if the preppy boy could kiss like that, he would be content with just exploring his mouth for as long as he could.

Preppy—he decided the nickname fit, and it was better than calling him ‘the boy’ over and over—leaned in to kiss him again, in what Joaquin supposed was intended as a brief kiss. It didn’t stay brief for very long, though, and soon they broke away to catch their breaths.

“Okay, this time I _really_ need to go,” Preppy’s voice was slightly hoarse, but he made no move to shove Joaquin off him. He was a few inches or so taller, and Joaquin had to tilt his head up just a little to get a good look in his eyes. He couldn’t resist leaning in to give another kiss that did stay fairly brief this time.

“I’m Joaquin, by the way,” he added, mostly to fill the silence, but his stare stayed locked in Preppy's eyes. They were a dark green, in the dark surrounding them they looked almost black, but as the movie flashed from somewhere—behind them? Around them?—Joaquin could just barely see some flecks of honey-gold in there as well.

“Give me your phone,” Preppy’s determined voice broke him out of his trance, and he didn’t even hesitate to take the device out of his pocket and hand it to him. “This,” Preppy said as he punched a couple of buttons, “is my number. Use it.”

He felt a little thrill at the commanding tone, no matter how breathless, but it disappeared when he looked down at the newly added contact; two words over a phone number. _Kevin Keller._ His first thought was that _this_ was Betty Cooper’s best friend Kevin, and he would have grinned at the coincidence, but then the last name registered.

“Keller?” he asked, hating how unsure his voice sounded. “As in…like, like…like _Sheriff_ Keller?” he managed to get out, mentally kicking himself shin for stuttering.

“Is that a problem?” Kevin frowned. For a moment, Joaquin just looked at him; there was no way he hadn’t made the connection, the leather jacket in itself was a dead giveaway. Finally, he sighed, and rolled up the sleeve of his jacket—the right forearm, where his serpent tattoo was.

“Is this a problem?” he asked instead. Kevin searched his eyes for a long moment, before he spoke again.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Joaquin’s lips quirked up in a small smile, and he planted another kiss at Kevin’s lips, enjoying the warmth they provided under his own as Kevin’s hands came to rest on either side of his face over his hair. He figured it constituted as a yes. “You know, I doubt Jughead and Betty are very worried about where you are.”

“You’re one of Jughead’s friends, aren’t you?” Kevin rolled his eyes when Joaquin only smirked in reply. “ _They_ won’t be very worried, but Cheryl will definitely be wondering where her popcorn is. And I’d rather eat my hand than have Cheryl be annoyed with me.”

“She sounds lovely,” Joaquin said dryly, and Kevin laughed. He scrunched up his nose when he did that, and Joaquin smiled; he looked cute.

“She’s…not entirely unpleasant when she tries,” he decided. “But the same way, she’s an absolute nightmare when she aims to be. Never disappoints, I have to say. Besides, shouldn’t you be going back to, Ricky, was it? Is he…” he trailed off, but Joaquin answered anyway, only slightly curious about what Kevin was originally going to say.

“Ricky’s my little brother. And no, not really. Carla can entertain him just fine,” _as can the rest of the Serpents_ , he thought but didn’t voice it.

“She’s a friend of yours?” Kevin asked, tugging him away from the wire fence and back towards the drive-in.

“Sister,” Joaquin clarified. “Little sister.”

“I have two of those,” Kevin said. “Little sisters, that is. But they’re currently somewhere across the Atlantic, and it’ll be a while before they come back. They live with my mom.”

Joaquin’s first guess was divorced parents, but he didn’t ask. “I know a little something about long distance families,” he said instead. “But mine is a little closer than another continent.”

“My mom is in Paris now,” Kevin said it so off-handily, Joaquin wondered if the nonchalance was on purpose. “What about yours?”

“My mom is probably dead in a ditch somewhere,” he saw Kevin’s eyes bug out of his head, but at least _his_ nonchalance wasn’t forced. Not too much, anyway. “But if you mean my long-distance family, San Junipero. In California,” he clarified.

“Still pretty far,” Kevin allowed, but didn’t bring up his mother again, a fact that Joaquin was grateful for.

“Yeah,” Joaquin nodded as the cars and the lights of the drive-in came into full view once more. He let his eyes wander to where the Serpents were sitting in the back, only to see his sister slung over Sweet Pea’s shoulder, while Toni attempted to hit him over the head—she was too short—with a water bottle. Ricky appeared to be cheering her on, and Fangs seemed torn between yelling and laughing at them, in both cases risking waking Lu up. “I should probably interfere,” he said, and Kevin followed his eyes to the scene. “I’ll be seeing you around, Preppy,” he called, and jogged away from him, not risking a glance back, in fear of the weird fluttering feeling in his stomach.

“Joaquin!” Ricky called, with unnecessary cheer and volume when he neared. All movement ceased suddenly. “You’re back!”

“What the hell is going on here?” Joaquin demanded, taking in Toni’s scowl, Carla’s radiant smile and Sweet Pea’s guilty expression.

“That depends,” the last man said slowly. “Are you in a good mood?”

* * *

He knew he shouldn't have called. A gang member and the sheriff's son just weren't the sort of people who should hang out together, much less date, or whatever the hell it was that he and Kevin were doing now.

He knew he shouldn’t have called.

And yet he was here, worrying the leather edges of his jacket as he sat in the little coffee shop in Greendale—Cerberus’, or something—that seemed to be the equivalent of Pop’s for the small town; minus the sides’ rivalry, Joaquin was willing to bet. He couldn’t get Kevin out of his mind the whole week and a half it took him to call him; fighting against his desire to see him again, and the knowledge that they really shouldn’t be doing this. And Carla hadn’t been helpful either, alternating between gushing over his new possible beau and worrying because it was the Sheriff’s son, all the while encouraging him to call.

In a flash of a ‘what the hell’ sort of moment, Joaquin had called.

Which, again, brought them here. Joaquin had spent the last five minutes alternating between silently berating himself for coming— _calling_ in the first place, and trying to convince himself that Kevin was just late and hadn’t found his common sense on the last minute and ditched him.

All in all, the five most _thrilling_ moments in his life.

The bell on the door chimed, and Joaquin looked up, unable to stop the sigh of relief that escaped him at the sight of Kevin at the door. He was wearing the same jacket he wore at the drive-in, and one of those preppy sweaters Joaquin used to make fun of jocks about. Karma was a bitch apparently, because he thought Kevin looked amazing in it.

“I’m sorry, I run into Wendy on the way here,” Kevin said quickly, sliding into the booth’s other side. “She was very talkative this morning.”

“Is there someone around that _doesn’t_ know you?” Joaquin marveled at Kevin’s ability to not only recognize most people he came across, but be friendly with most—if not all—of them.

“It’s small town!” Kevin defended. “Towns,” he amended. “But still small! Wendy is my principal’s niece, she attended Riverdale High back in my freshman year for a few months before she moved.”

“I literally couldn’t care less but good for her,” Joaquin deadpanned. He had no idea who Wendy was, and even less desire to find out.

“Right yes,” Kevin nodded, his cheeks flushed a light pink in embarrassment. “You know, I wasn’t sure if you were actually going to call or not.”

“Me neither,” Joaquin admitted. “I mean, a Southside Serpent and the Sheriff’s son walk into a cafeteria—it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

It started a laugh out of Kevin, and Joaquin felt a sting of pride to be the one who caused that, but he clamped the smile down. “So why did you?”

Why did he? It was the question he had been asking ever since Kevin picked up. What the hell; he’d gotten this far either way. Might as well roll with it.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said honestly, and he saw Kevin’s eyes go a little wide at that. “Also my sister was nagging me because apparently I was ‘sulking’, but I mostly just wanted to see you again. And you know, make out, if things got that far.”

Kevin laughed. “Glad to know I wasn’t the only one with that line of thinking. Although it _did_ take you almost two weeks to work up the nerve to call me. Am I really that intimidating?” he was grinning; teasing, Joaquin supposed, but the answer he gave in turn was more somber.

“Yes,” he said, watching as Kevin was taken aback. “Not so much you as your relation to the Sheriff. I can’t imagine he’d be happy to find out his son is…seeing a Southside Serpent.”

“Well, nothing is tremendously serious right now,” Kevin allowed. “And my dad doesn’t have to know—and I’m hoping that if he does, at some point, he’ll consider not going complete Frollo on me.”

“Frollo?” Joaquin frowned, distracted from the conversation for a moment.

“Yeah, you know, Quasimodo?” Kevin said. Joaquin stared at him blankly. “Esmeralda? The Notre Dame? _Disney_?”

“I mean, I’ve heard of Disney…” Joaquin tried, watching the palpable shock rise at Kevin’s features. “And _tia_ Camilla made us watch the Christmas Carols with my cousins when we went to my _abuela’s_ last Christmas,” he was quick to add.

“You’ve never seen a Disney movie?” he gaped. “Like, properly seen a Disney movie? Not even Lion King?”

“I…well, sort of?” Joaquin winced. “I’ve seen…a few. Sunnyside Trailer Park isn’t really Netflix material.” Kevin continued to gape at him, as if he'd committed some heinous crime, and Joaquin felt slightly uncomfortable under the intense stare. “What?” he asked in a small voice.

“You’ve never seen quality Disney,” Kevin didn’t say it like an accusation, he was simply stating a fact. Joaquin shook his head in confirmation. “That’s inexcusable! We are _so_ going to fix that. From now on, it’s my job to make sure you see _all_ the Disney movies. It’s obligatory education.”

“Your job?” Joaquin chuckled at the seriousness in Kevin’s tone; he looked personally offended by the fact that Joaquin had never watched Disney movies, and it was endearing and somewhat cute.

“Yes,” Kevin said decisively. “As your…” he frowned and trailed off. “What are we calling each other?’

“Calling each other?” In other circumstances Joaquin would have been embarrassed by his lack of understanding, but Kevin looked just as lost.

“Yeah, you know, _this_ ,” he waved a hand around generally. “Us. What are we calling each other? I mean, I know my dad isn’t going to be our number one fan, and I don’t know if the Serpents have a rule against seeing the Sheriff’s son or anything…”

“I don’t think anyone is going to care too much as long as I don’t flunk,” Joaquin shrugged. “Especially if I have Jughead to back me up. I mean, they’ll be mostly worried about ending in prison—scared I’ll snitch, maybe…”

“But they won’t, like…hurt you or anything,” Kevin sounded unsure. He looked genuinely concerned, and it made Joaquin’s heart do something he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to do. “Will they?”

“No,” Joaquin said more confidently than he felt, trying to make it sound light. “No, of course not,” he assured Kevin even as his brain supplied a few names of older serpents that would gladly beat him up for it.

“Okay,” Kevin sounded unconvinced, but he let it go. “If you say so.” He appeared to struggle with something to say, but finally sighed. “So, I’ve never actually dated anyone before.”

The revelation took Joaquin by surprise. “Really? No one?” he could hear the surprise in his own voice, and a part of him registered it might sound a tad rude. “I mean, it’s just…hard to believe when you look like… _that_.”

“Like what?” Kevin demanded. “I know I’m not a smoke-show or anything but I like to think I’m at least fairly attractive!”

“Fairly attractive—” Joaquin shook his head in disbelief. “Kevin, you’re seriously hot,” he said, watching in satisfaction as Kevin blushed. “You’re like, one of the most attractive guys I’ve ever met, in a preppy, dorky sort of way and saying that out loud is actually killing me—this is embarrassing.” He rested his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands, more cautious of the look in Kevin’s eyes than anything else.

“Well, if it helps, I think you’re hot too and you really have that James Dean look going for you,” Kevin said with a straight face—or a straight voice more accurately, since Joaquin was still hiding behind his hands; now hiding his own blush more than anything. “And you’re really cute when you get all flustered,” Kevin continued, and pried Joaquin’s hands away from his face, looking at him across the table with a small smile.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he muttered, cheeks still on fire, but deciding he had to get a grip before he managed to embarrass himself further. “So, you want to be like, my boyfriend or something? Because let me tell you, one, you definitely should not, and two I would have zero inhibitions. No objections. I’m sold.”

“Are you really?” Kevin laughed. “Are you going to give me any more warnings before you actually ask me out or…?”

“We’re both deciding to throw caution in the wind, then?” Joaquin matched Kevin’s smile. “It’s a terrible decision, but I’m notorious for those, so at least my reputation is still intact.”

“I don’t know about intact,” Kevin said, “but I’m not complaining.”

* * *

Joaquin's most terrible decision of the year was proving to be the best of his life, and that was really saying something about him.

He’d been meeting up with Kevin for almost a month now, in a public secret manner. All of Joaquin’s friends knew, as did his siblings—Carla had yet to let up the teasing, and Ricky _always_ rolled his eyes whenever Kevin’s name was mentioned. Joaquin wasn’t sure if it was because of Kevin, or because his brother tended to be like that with all things romantic, or because of the small smile Joaquin always had on when Kevin was mentioned; it was an unconscious movement, and Carla would never let him hear the end of it.

He also knew that Betty Cooper, Kevin’s best friend, was fully aware of their relationship, but when he received a text from Kevin asking to meet up at Pop’s, Joaquin frowned. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be seen with Kevin—on the contrary Joaquin had an inexplicable urge to scream to the world how amazing Kevin was and how lucky he was to have him—but the Sherriff-Dad, Gang-member-boyfriend situation demanded they both be cautious. Joaquin didn’t think the Sherriff would stay angry with Kevin for long, but he honestly didn’t believe he was going to make it out of a direct confrontation whole and unharmed, despite what Kevin said.

_You sure you want to meet up at Pop’s?_

He pressed sent before he could second-guess himself, or spend the next ten minutes proof-reading it. Kevin most probably expected a reply sooner rather than later. He looked back at the living where Carla was sprawled over the couch, reading a book and adopting more and more ridiculous positions as the minutes ticked by—she was currently upside-down, holding the book in front of her face as her hair grazed the floor, one leg resting on the back of the couch where her back should have been, and the other thrown over the arm, dangling in the air. Joaquin shook his head at the sight; he could ask Carla and Ricky to tag along for cover, but then he’d have to buy Ricky a burger, and he wasn’t sure tonight’s cash would be enough. He hadn’t taken a job ever since he started dating Kevin—he kept putting it off. He’d talk it over with Jughead tomorrow.

Kevin’s reply came before he could put the phone back in his pocket.

_Please. I can’t master the energy to care about that right now._

Joaquin frowned. That didn’t sound like Kevin at all. He texted him saying he’d be there in ten minutes and turned to his sister. “Carla,” he called, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans and searching the trailer for his leather jacket. His sister didn’t acknowledge him; she hadn’t even heard him, most probably. “Carla,” he said a little more forcefully.

One—his jacket was hung behind the trailer door.

Two—his keys were already inside his jean pockets.

Three—“Sorry, did you say something?”

“I’m going out,” Joaquin told his sister, pointing at the door.

“With Kevin?” Carla asked, only half-interested, and Joaquin nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him. She interpreted his silence as a yes. “Have fun,” she didn’t bother raising her head to him again, too caught up in whatever she was reading. Joaquin reached for his Serpent jacket, but paused, his fingers hovering over the rough fabric. Pop’s was a Northside place, mainly, and he wanted to go unnoticed.

He grabbed the plain black leather jacket hanging from the next rail and walked out.

He spent the ride from Sunnyside to Pop’s trying to avoid thinking of all the possibilities of why Kevin might be upset—Joaquin was almost certain by his texts that he was upset—but it was a mostly futile effort. Did the Sheriff found out about them? But then again if he did, would he let Kevin go out on his own? Wouldn’t he be grounded or something?

“Joaquin, my boy!” Pop’s smile was the friendliest he had ever seen on a Northsider’s face—excluding Kevin and Betty. Pop remembered him coming in with Ricky occasionally, or even Jughead; hell, Pop probably remembered them coming in with his _mom_.

“Hey, Pop,” Joaquin smiled. Pop Tate had a lot of reasons to turn up his nose like the rest of the Northside did, but he was the least judgmental person he knew.

“You want your usuals, to go?” Pop asked; he probably thought Joaquin was there to buy the family dinner.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, actually, I’m just here to see someone…” his eyes searched the dinner until he spotted Kevin’s familiar mop of brown hair near the back.

“Well, you kids have fun then!” Pop smiled, and Joaquin mirrored him briefly, before his feet carried him to the booth Kevin was sitting. It was the very last in the row, sandwiched between the window and the wall.

“Hey,” Joaquin said as he slid in the booth, and Kevin looked up at him. His dark green eyes, normally so bright, were bloodshot and more dark than they ought to be. Joaquin’s smile faded at the sight, and instinctively he reached over for Kevin’s hand, covering it with his own. “What’s wrong?”

“You know how I told you that even though I’ve never had a boyfriend before, I used to hook up with closeted guys all the time?” Kevin said, squeezing his hand. An uneasy feeling settled at Joaquin’s stomach.

“Yeah, you said,” he tried to keep his voice nonchalant.

“Yeah, well, since we’re keeping our relationship under wraps, as long as Riverdale High is concerned I’m still single,” Kevin said bitterly. “And one or two guys tried to ask me for a hookup, a few weeks back, but they backed off when I made it clear I wasn’t interested.” Joaquin had no idea where Kevin was going with this, and for the first time he felt a pang of fear he didn’t remember ever feeling before. “I thought that if I kept telling them no, they’d get bored of asking and leave me alone.”

“But?” Joaquin prompted. “Kevin, did they do something?” he was surprised to hear the layers of anger in his voice. Kevin’s fingers smoothed over his knuckles, and a tension Joaquin hadn’t even noticed was there was released from his shoulders.

“No,” Kevin shook his head. “Nothing like that, I promise.”

“But they did something,” Joaquin guessed, and by the way Kevin kept avoiding his gaze he supposed he was right. “Kevin,” he said gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…” He wouldn’t deny that he wanted to know, and he knew that the speculations would keep him up at nights to come, but if Kevin didn’t want to tell him, he would respect that. No matter how hard it was.

“No, I want to tell you,” Kevin shook his head. “I need to tell this to someone, and as great as Betty is, she’ll do something stupid like break their noses and I can’t let her do that.”

“I can’t promise I’m not going to break their noses, you know,” Joaquin said, only half joking.

“Please don’t,” Kevin looked up at him. “I don’t want you to get in a fight because of me.”

“That’s not the way I’d put it, but I promise I’ll…rationally think this over instead of storming over there and messing up their pretty faces,” Joaquin said honestly.

“You don’t even know what they said yet,” Kevin pointed out, his eyes glossing over with tears again.

“If it’s enough to make you cry, it’s enough for me to break their bones,” Joaquin said seriously, and he surprised even himself at how much he meant it. He hadn’t felt this protective over anyone that wasn’t his siblings before. Kevin’s bottom lip quivered, and Joaquin reached a hand to smooth the hair grazing his forehead. “What happened, Kev?”

Kevin took a deep breath. “Right so, there’s this guy with whom I fooled around at Sweetwater River before,” he started. “And he was looking for a revision or something. And I told him off, because besides you, he has a girlfriend as well. And it escalated in, a fight or something? And he sort of called me easy and said I never cared with who I hooked up before as long as I did. He said Veronica had heels higher than my standards.” Kevin’s lips quivered again, and Joaquin tightened his grip on his boyfriend’s hands. “And that _hurt_ , because despite everything, Moose and I had always been friends.”

“Kevin…” Joaquin said gently, but Kevin shook his head.

“And that was last week or so,” he continued instead. “And I lost a night’s sleep crying over it like some pathetic high-schooler with a crush, but at the end I figured it’s all rumors anyway—people always talk. I mean, I’m frenemies with Cheryl Blossom of all people, I should know how this works.” Here Kevin let out a quiet laugh that sounded like a sob more than anything, and Joaquin’s heart broke a little. “But there was this other guy I hadn’t talked with for months—who’s a real jerk, but then I’ve never been known for my excellent taste. And when I told him no, he…he didn’t take it very well.”

“Kevin,” Joaquin said as the boy in question averted his eyes, using an incredible amount of resolve to keep the anger out of his voice, “did he do something?”

“He tried,” Kevin admitted quietly, and Joaquin could swear his heart stopped. “But it’s not like I’m completely defenseless—I’m on the wrestling team. He didn’t _do_ anything, but he said a lot of things,” Kevin swallowed uneasily. “Like how as the only openly gay guy at school, closeted hookups were the only thing I was going to get. Because it’s not like anybody would go to the goody-two-shoes, Sheriff’s-son, walking gay stereotype for anything more that. And I shouldn’t flatter myself thinking I had a _choice_ , because I’m nothing more than a booty-call, and that I’d—” here Kevin’s voice broke, and Joaquin didn’t even care what he was going to say next.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, rising from the booth to slide over next to Kevin and wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “Shhhh, it’s okay,” he whispered, as Kevin hid his face at the crook his neck and sobbed. “It’s okay, baby, I got you,” he drowned out all the anger—rage, really—he had for Kevin’s less-than-savory classmate and shoved it down; he would deal with it later. “Shh, baby, I got you.”

It was some time later that Kevin’s sobs subsided, but even so, Joaquin continued to rub circles soothingly at his back. “Sorry,” Kevin hiccupped with a small smile as he sat up, never leaving the comfort of Joaquin’s arms around him. “I cried all over your shirt.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Joaquin told him truthfully. “And you shouldn’t believe anything that asshole said—what was his name again?”

“Luke Pipps,” Kevin responded instinctively, and Joaquin felt only a little bad for fishing him that way. He'd ask Carla to dig him up later, maybe he'd even let her help. 

“Yeah, him,” he said dismissively. “Everything he said, everything they _all_ said…it’s not true, Kev. None of it is,” he had never been good at pep talks, but it appeared it was time to test his ability. “You’re not a walking stereotype, and you’re certainly not a goody-two-shoes, Preppy. You’re amazing. You’re nobody’s beck-and-call, and you always, _always_ have a choice.” Kevin’s eyes were trained at the table as if it was the most interesting thing. “Come on, Kev, look at me.”

“Sorry,” Kevin muttered, but complied anyway.

“Stop apologizing,” Joaquin almost rolled his eyes. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Look, I’ve never been any good at this inspiring words bullshit, but I want to make you understand—you’re _not_ all those thing he said. You’re Kevin Keller—yes, albeit the Sheriff’s son—who volunteers practically everywhere just to help people. You genuinely _care_ about people, Kev, and take it from someone who knows, not many people do, and it’s…amazing. I never thought anyone could be so genuinely _good_ in the most altruistic sense before I met you.”

“I didn’t care who I was hooking up with though,” Kevin said quietly. “That’s true.”

“Preppy, if we let the people we’ve slept define us, we would never be our own people,” Joaquin said, remembering Sweet Pea’s many nights out. “And frankly I don’t care how many and which of them you’ve hooked up with,” he continued. “You’re not just a one-night-stand, Kevin, not for me. Those secret rendezvous we’ve been going on for the past three weeks and a half have been the best of life, and I’m not using that as an exaggeration. I…care about you a lot, Preppy, and I’m _proud_ of you.”

“I like you too, you know,” Kevin smiled down at him brightly, and Joaquin felt some of the tension leave him—he hadn’t realized how nervous he was about fucking this up. “And the only reason we’re keeping this under wraps is because of my dad. Honestly, these last few weeks I’ve had a half a mind to yell ‘I have a boyfriend!’ for everyone to hear.”

“So do,” Joaquin shrugged, watching the doubts flicker behind Kevin’s eyes. “I’m serious, _cariño_ ,” he paused at the slip of the nickname, horrified, before he realized Kevin didn’t know what it meant. “I like you enough to risk facing the Sheriff’s wrath at this point.”

“Let’s not just rush things,” Kevin said hastily, looking a little concerned on his behalf. “I'd like to keep your face looking this pretty for a while longer. My friends will have to do for now.” He was smiling so wide, the dimples on his cheeks visible now that he was close enough, and he looked so adorable that leaning to kiss him wasn’t even a conscious choice on Joaquin’s part. Kevin wasn’t objecting, if the things he was doing with his tongue were any indication.

“Well, now look at that—Kevin Keller has a new beau!”

The voice was unfamiliar enough that Joaquin would have ignored it in favor of kissing Kevin some more—which was proving to be one of his favorite things to do—but it was the sneer in it that made him pull away and look up. Three football players, a head taller than him each, were standing in front of their booth. Joaquin was suddenly very grateful he’d left his Serpent jacket home; it would have only served to land him in a fight with the jocks.

The one on the front was a dark-skinned guy built like a truck, with a mocking smile gracing his lips, and Joaquin was willing to bet real money he was the one who made the comment. On his left there was a tall dark-haired guy that Joaquin had seen buying weed from them a couple of times, and next to him what a redhead who looked more surprised than anything else; he wondered if this was the redhead friend Betty kept talking about.

“Chuck,” Kevin sighed. So they didn’t like this one, Joaquin concluded. He could work with that.

“Kevin!” the redhead exclaimed. “You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend, man. That’s great!” he seemed genuinely excited for Kevin, and Joaquin eyed him a little more closely. He had a varsity jacket and jeans on, hands in his pocket and dollar-winning smile plastered on his face that, despite everything, seemed real enough.

“Yes, great,” the tall one—Chuck—said again. “You fags gotta stick together, don’t you?”

Joaquin definitely didn’t like that one. He was about to retort, but the redhead beat him to it.

“That’s rude, man,” he remarked with a frown. “Kevin didn’t do anything, leave him alone.” And then to Joaquin’s surprise, the redhead turned to him, extending a hand in greeting. “I’m Archie. Archie Andrews.”

“Joaquin Santiago,” he shook the offered hand with some hesitation, but the name rang a bell in his mind—so _he_ was Jughead’s best friend from the Northside. “I’m Kevin’s boyfriend,” he clarified, looking over at Chuck with a pointed stare. Making it clear.

“Didn’t know your dad let you hang out with Southsiders, Keller,” the Asian-toned one spoke up. “Is he a Serpent?”

“Is he a Serpent?” Joaquin mimicked mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, because all Southsiders are Serpents, how smart.” He hoped his sarcasm was thick enough to penetrate the defenses of his stupidity. “You want the booth?” he asked before any of them could retort. “Kev and I were just leaving.”

He was out of the booth, offering a hand to Kevin before they could react, hoping Kevin wasn’t going to argue this one. However, Kevin seemed relieved if nothing else, and accepted the hand easily.

“Bye, Archie. Reggie,” he nodded at the dark-haired one. “See you around, guys.”

“Nice meeting you, Andrews,” Joaquin smirked, holding on Kevin’s hand and squeezing once. “See you around.” He walked out of the diner hand-in-hand with Kevin, and he could feel their stares on his back, searching for the Serpent brand on his leather jacket. Joaquin smirked.

“Your last name isn’t Santiago,” Kevin said once they were out of the diner. Joaquin didn’t reply to that, walking them to his motorbike.

“Come on,” he said instead. “I want to show you something.”

Kevin looked at him for a long moment, but finally he accepted the offered helmet—knowing by now that he couldn’t win the ‘but then you don’t have one’ arguments—and mounted the bike behind him without another word. The ride was fairly short and silent; with Kevin’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, he could almost imagine he wasn’t dreading the lengthy explanation that Kevin’s short statement demanded. He knew it had been coming, and honestly, it wasn’t that he was unwilling to share it, but it was hard to tell.

The house was as he remembered it, only more abandoned and left to rot that it had been the last time he visited it, over a year ago. The garden was a forest of tall grass and yellow flowers, or at least what was left of them.

“My foster parents used to live here,” Joaquin broke the silence, and he knew without having to look, the surprise that was plastered on Kevin’s face, the almost offence— _you didn’t tell me you had foster parents_ left unsaid. “Come on.”

Expertly dodging the grass and branches on their way, Joaquin led them to the backyard, the metal stairs dodgy but still in place. He climbed them, coming to sit on the metal balcony his foster father had built on the roof, when he caught him and Carla sneaking up there at nights.

“This thing is going to collapse and we’ll plunge to our deaths,” Kevin said, eyeing it warily.

“Not tonight,” Joaquin assured him. “I’ve been using this since forever, and it hasn’t given up on me yet. It’s an important night. It won’t collapse on us. Come on up.” Kevin still looked wary of it, but he climbed up the ladder stairs and settled next to him, their arms touching slightly. “This is my favorite place, even though I don’t visit it often enough to warrant it that title,” Joaquin continued. “My foster father built it for us when he still liked us. I like to come up here and think.” He glanced sideways at Kevin. “So which question do you want answered first?”

“Your last name isn’t Santiago,” Kevin repeated his words from the diner.

“It’s my mom’s last name,” he said with a small sigh. “Lucia Santiago. I…your dad’s arrested me a couple of times, so if any of them were to mention me to the Sheriff, he’d know exactly who I am. Not many Southsiders named Joaquin DeSantos around. I didn’t wear my Serpent jacket tonight either, so they have no way of knowing who I am, unless I’m the one with their weed.”

“Weed?” Kevin turned to face him abruptly. “Do you sell drugs?”

So that was what accidental slips of the tongue felt like.

“Not the sort of drugs you’re thinking,” he replied. “I mean, yeah, I sell stuff for the Serpents when they ask me, but it’s just weed, some ecstasy. Most of it is pot, anyway. Your friend, Reggie, I’ve seen him around once or twice, buying the stuff.”

“And what happens when they ask you to sell the hard stuff?” Kevin asked, not bothering to hide the worry, evident at his voice and the crease of his brows.

“The Serpents don’t deal the hard stuff period,” Joaquin said. “FP’s direct orders. And even if they did I’d say no out of principle. They wouldn’t ask, anyway, especially me.”

“Especially you?”

“My mom’s a drug addict.” It wasn’t the weight-off-the-chest revelation, but it was still important. Important enough that Joaquin found out he wanted to continue. “She was a Serpent, my dad wasn’t. She had a family, so they didn’t ask her to run jobs or anything. They were both from out of town, run away when mom found out she was pregnant with me. At first it was good, what I remember. But then my dad started associating with the Ghoulies. The Serpents warned him, and we thought that was that. Carla was like, three, and Ricky had just been born when my mom started doing drugs.”

To his credit, despite the turmoil of emotions in his face that Joaquin couldn’t bear to look at, Kevin didn’t interrupt.

“FP found out, but by the time he did, she had already been on cocaine for two years and dad would beat us bloody every time he felt like it, because the guy has _serious_ anger issues. I don’t know what FP did, but I remember him telling us my dad was a Ghoulie now, that _he_ was the one supplying mom the drugs, and he threatened to kick him out of Sunnyside on principle. I was six, so when my dad promised to get out of it and straighten up, despite the beatings he’d give me, I believed him for the whole year he spent lying at us. Mom was getting worse, not better, and he was just a lot more careful in his dealings. Still beat us up when he got angry. But on Ricky’s third birthday, he went overboard. My mom was sober for once, and he took us to some fancy ass restaurant in Centerville and said he got a job at the Clothes Factory that was on Southside’s neutral territory—we call it the Danger Zone now, nobody goes there. Anyway, dad promised—he _swore_ —that he was out and he had a full-time job, and it felt like the best birthday ever.”

“What happened?” Kevin asked softly, reaching reluctantly to tangle their fingers together even though Joaquin still had his eyes fixed at the stars above.

“He lied,” Joaquin said bitterly. “We went home, and the next day he woke up, shaved, and went to work. He never came back. Your dad arrested him, because half the factory blew up and on the other half the workers had been stabbed to death and my dad was still holding the knife when the cops showed up.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Kevin said gently. He hesitated for a moment before he asked; “Did they set up your foster parents then?”

“No,” Joaquin shook his head. “No, that wasn’t until three years later when my mom was arrested too. For substance abuse. She’d been arrested once before, but they figured second time’s the charm and shipped us off to some fancy border family.”

“How…how were your foster parents?”

“Nice,” Joaquin said bitterly. “They were great, and they loved us. We spend four years with them.”

“What happened? How did you end up back at the trailer?”

“Carla and I came out,” Joaquin shrugged. “Accidentally, but we did. And then we got kicked out of the house. They left the next year, never came back.”

“That’s horrible,” Kevin breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind Joaquin’s ear and cupping his cheek. “That’s…” he shook his head in a loss of words. “Joaquin, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Joaquin closed his eyes and leaned into Kevin’s touch. “So now you know. Frankly, I’m a little surprised you aren’t running away yet.” Kevin stayed silent, but his hand never left Joaquin’s face. “I just…sometimes I lay awake at night and think back to that birthday. He sounded so _sincere_ when he told us, but he can’t have…there’s no way they didn’t plan it—at least some of it. And it makes me sick, knowing he got a job just so he could kill all these people.”

Kevin’s arms came around him, and Joaquin let himself be lost in his cologne and the warmth his body radiated. It was comforting, as Kevin’s embrace had always been, but this time there was a safety to it, like the problems of the rest of the world couldn’t touch them up here, not as long as they were together.

“Can I have one more question?” Kevin said after what could have either an eternity or five minutes.

“I’d sure you just did, but I’ll refrain,” Joaquin grinned against Kevin’s clothes. “Ask away, Preppy.”

“What does it mean?” He could hear the frown in Kevin’s voice.

“What does what mean?” Joaquin returned, his voice slightly muffled.

“That thing you called me at Pop’s,” Kevin said. “Carido?”

Joaquin laughed, pulling away to look at Kevin’s face. “ _Cariño_ ,” he corrected, kissing him softly to wipe away the downward pull of his lips. He felt embarrassed for a moment, but he’d already shared his entire tragic childhood backstory. If Kevin was looking for an excuse to run away from him, Joaquin had already given him plenty. “It means sweetheart,” he finally said in a small voice.

“Does it?” A grin tugged Kevin’s lips upwards. “Are we using pet names now?”

“It slipped out,” Joaquin admitted, trying to downplay it.

“Sure did, honey,” Kevin teased with a smirk. He looked so happy, Joaquin couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. He settled for kissing him, using both hands to tug Kevin’s face down.

God, he could spend forever kissing him and never grow tired of it.


End file.
